


the kind of love that won't fly away

by thegrayness



Series: with our hands over our hearts [7]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Abuse of Mariah Carey lyrics, Drunk David Rose, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, I'm feeling Mariah a lot right now okay, Including the title of this fic, Karaoke, M/M, Mariah Carey songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 02:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20250853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: “This one is formy husbandwho is right there,” David shouted unnecessarily into the microphone.--Surprise. David gets drunk and does karaoke.





	the kind of love that won't fly away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RhetoricalQuestions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricalQuestions/gifts).

> Here is the song featured heavily: [Dreamlover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqBtS6BIP1E)

“This one is for _ my husband _ who is right there,” David pointed at Patrick and shouted unnecessarily into the microphone. Patrick covered his face, shoulders shaking with laughter, as this was the third song David had dedicated to him, _ his husband_. Stevie was _ wasted _ and unhelpful as ever, looking between them both with an elated expression that Patrick couldn't really stay mad about. 

“It’s _ Mariah_,” he continued, dramatic and serious and so fucking drunk. “Because I’M HIS MARIAH CAREY!” Stevie cheered, which garnered a few confused echoes from the rest of the modest Saturday-night crowd at their frequented karaoke bar. “I’m Mariah,” he mumbled as the opening strains of “Dreamlover” blared through the speakers. 

Patrick was familiar with the song, as it was frequently in rotation on David’s shower playlist, and he also knew which parts were David’s favorite. So he mentally prepared himself for an earnest _ wanna share forever with you baby _ and wondered if David was going to forget the mic had a wire and try to leave the stage to climb into Patrick’s lap like he did for “Emotions.” 

“We’ve gotta get him home after this,” Patrick said to Stevie, but he couldn’t stop laughing, and he was tipsy, too, and David was drunkenly crooning to him about _ someone to belong to every day of my life _ and Patrick loved him so fucking much. 

“He hasn’t done Fantasy yet,” Stevie slurred, gesturing wildly with her drink. “He’s not gon’ let you take him.”

Patrick knew Stevie had a point, but Patrick had the skills for convincing David Rose. 

  


“You sssaid we were gettin’ pizza, Patrick,” David complained as Patrick led him up the front walk, the sound of Mike from The Baseball’s tires crunching away in the distance. 

“Yes, David, I lied to you,” Patrick chuckled, nudging his husband gracelessly through the front door but keeping a tight hold on his hand in case of an emergency. Like tumbling to the ground from tripping over his own feet. Patrick hauled him upright and helped him pull his coat off amidst stuttered protests and continued mumblings of “Pizza Patrick,” that dissolved into giggles. 

Patrick laughed again, hanging up their coats on the hooks inside the door. “Come on, babe,” he ushered David up the stairs, careful to watch for any missteps, while David whined about the hallway spinning and ruining the aesthetic he worked so hard to cultivate. “Yes, it’s a gorgeous color palette,” Patrick agreed as they turn into their bedroom. 

He sat David on the edge of the bed, and David immediately flopped backward, arms spread wide in a T-shape. Patrick huffed, amused, and knelt down to start unlacing David’s hightops, which had way too many laces, in Patrick’s opinion. David was still muttering to himself, but Patrick was starting to pick out some words and stopped what he was doing to look up at David sprawled on the bed. He was singing. Well. Mumbling.

“... come rescue me, take me up… down… anywhere you want…” David trailed off and took a few slow breaths and Patrick thought he had fallen asleep. Suddenly, David heaved a huge breath, “Cause I wan’ share f’rever with you babayyyyyy,” he belted, albeit offkey and barely intelligible. Patrick grinned and pulled off David’s day socks, knowing he would definitely not want to sleep in them. 

“Think you can get your own pants off, MC?” He asked, standing and patting David’s thigh to get his attention. 

David blew out a wet raspberry and Patrick raised his eyebrows in surprise. “As if Miss Mariah has to take off her own clothing,” he sassed but fumbled with the button on his jeans anyway. Patrick listened to David sing _ I just want someone to belong to every day of my life _ and smiled to himself—couldn’t stop smiling, really. He changed into pajamas and grabbed David’s from his closet, turning to find David pantsless with his arms tangled in his sweater. He was still singing, at least Patrick thought that's what he was saying to himself, and didn’t seem to be at all concerned that he was lying on the bed with his arms and head wrapped up in muppet fur. 

“Okay, let’s get this off, huh?” Patrick knelt up on the bed, straddling David’s torso, and maneuvered him free from the restricting garment. David blinked and gazed up at Patrick like he’d dropped every single star individually into the sky to David’s exact specifications. 

  


“Patrick?” David said just as Patrick had started to drift off to sleep.

“Hmm?” Patrick pressed a tiny kiss the to back of David’s neck and tightened his arms around him in a quick, big-spoony hug. 

“You’re _ my _ Mariah Carey,” David said, voice soft and sweet and happy. Patrick pressed a smile into David’s hair—so wide he thought his cheeks were gonna start cramping. He settled further into their bed and fell asleep thinking about how he might be able to tell Mariah Carey that he, Patrick Brewer, had replaced her.


End file.
